


Three of a Kind

by theskywasblue



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Family, Fatherhood, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-05-01
Updated: 2011-05-01
Packaged: 2017-10-19 01:05:29
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 375
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/195188
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/theskywasblue/pseuds/theskywasblue
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>John watches his sons play cards</p>
            </blockquote>





	Three of a Kind

**Author's Note:**

> for the prompt "Cards."

“No, Sammy jeez – you can’t – Here, look,” Dean picked up the cards off the worn tabletop and pressed them into his brother’s hands, “You can’t let me see your cards.”

“But you’re supposed to be helping me!”

“’course I am Sammy – this is helping. If you let the other guys see your cards, then you can’t win.”

John watched Sam pull his lip between his teeth, sucking on it hard, his face a mixture of resentment and determination. He was getting to be a stubborn kid these days – all the questions and defiance John could handle packed into a tiny eleven year-old body. Sometimes it made John proud to know his boy was tough as nails and wouldn’t let anyone – even his big brother – push him around; and sometimes it made him borderline crazy.

“Like this?” The fan of the cards was a little too big for his hands, but Sam managed it. John couldn’t see Dean’s face from where he was sitting, but he could hear the approval in his voice.

“Yeah, exactly. Now you gotta figure out if you’ve got good cards or not – do you remember which ones are the good ones?”

Sam’s tongue slid out of the corner of his mouth and his brow furrowed in concentration. “I think so.”

“Lemme take a look and I’ll tell you if you’ve got good ones this time.”

Dean studied Sam’s cards, whistled faintly, making Sam smile. He was becoming a showman, lately – the kid was like a goddamn sponge for everything John ever tried to teach him. At fifteen, Dean could play poker and pool, he could lie like a professional con-man, and he was a better hand with a gun than most men twice his age. One day soon, John would take him on a hunt, and he would be good, John knew – more than that, he would be a natural.

But for now, he was just a kid trying to teach his little brother how to play poker.

John closed his journal; the soft snap of the pages coming together made both the boys turn towards him, wary and ready as John got up and walked over to the table.

“Deal me in, boys. I’ll show you how it’s done.”

-End-


End file.
